


In Every Universe, You

by 221brosiewilde



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 14,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde
Summary: Together in every universe, in every time.Tumblr one shots and drabbles curated and edited in one convenient place.





	1. Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: indulgent fluff

On days like this it’s easy to imagine that London was specifically made for autumn. The orange and brown of the trees blends in perfectly with the black street lamps, the shiny wet pavement. There’s a damp chill in the air, too. It works its fingers under Sebastian’s coat and tries to settle under his skin like a relentless parasite. He fights off a shiver and adjusts the scarf around his neck. The park bench he’s sitting on doesn’t provide much shelter from the wind. He has a suspicion that that’s one of the reasons Jim chose it for a meeting place. 

It’s days like this that make him miss Afghanistan. The dry heat would be heavenly compared to grey and miserable London. Or even India, with its stifling humidity. He’d rather sweat than freeze any day, but well…

Jim is in London, so London is where he’ll stay.

Sebastian checks his watch and frowns. Jim’s plane landed almost an hour ago. Even with the time it takes to go through customs, hail a cab, and go through traffic, it wouldn’t take him this long to get here. It’s only supposed to be a brief meeting before they part again, but it’s still important. Sebastian needs to give Jim his files and Jim needs to give Sebastian blueprints to a military base. It’s business.

But it’s also…not. He misses Jim like mad when he’s away.

Someone sits next to him on the bench and Sebastian tenses. The gun in his holster feels very heavy all of a sudden.

“If you keep scowling like that you’ll get wrinkles.”

The smell of designer cologne on the breeze and that fucking  _ voice _ . Of course. It can only be one person. There’s no one else in the world with a voice like that. 

Sebastian relaxes. He leans back against the park bench and looks at Jim. He looks…exhausted, mostly. The ever present dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced and his usual manic energy is lessened. But that’s to be expected after surviving an overnight flight from Jakarta. Sixteen hours nonstop. The jetlag must be killing him. 

“I’m scowling because it’s freezing and I’ve been sitting here for an hour,” Sebastian grumbles He shifts against the bench. “Feels like my arse is going to fall off.”

Jim manages a leer, though it doesn’t sit well with the tired glaze of his eyes. “And what a shame that would be.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. Secretly he’s glad that Jim is making jokes. If he’s still cognizant enough for that then the jetlag isn’t as bad as he thought. 

“I suppose I should be happy you haven’t forgotten about my arse. How was the meeting?”

Jim shrugs. “Fine. The Indonesian president was very grateful for my services. Do you have the files?”

There’s something almost robotic about the way he’s talking, like he’s been running on autopilot for too long. It’s happened before, of course. Jim has a habit of forcing his brain to run marathons even after his body has checked out. Usually it’s not a problem - he’ll pass out when he’s ready - but he still has at least another week of work to do before the job is finished. And if he’s like this now, there’s no telling how he’ll be in a few days.

It’s frustrating to watch, especially because Sebastian knows there’s nothing he can do for him here. If they were home it’d be different. There he could at least force Jim into eating something, or maybe persuade him to sleep for a bit. In the park there isn’t much he can do, not when they’re in public.

“Here,” Sebastian says, gesturing to his inside pocket where he has the files tucked away. Jim holds his hand out.

“Give it here, then. I don’t have all day.” He snaps his fingers when Sebastian doesn’t move, an impatient twist to his mouth. “Seb.”

“Hold on a second,” Sebastian says. He moves a little closer, until their thighs touch, and leans his shoulder against Jim’s. It’s small, but the touch alone is grounding, like finally coming up for air. 

Jim lets out an amused sounding sigh. “If I miss my flight because of your…indulgence, I’m going to be very put out.”

There’s no fight in his voice though. He leans against Sebastian, resting all but his head on his shoulder even though he’s the perfect height for it. Stubborn bastard. 

“You won’t,” Sebastian says. He takes out the file and hands it to Jim. “And anyway, there have been some changes. You won’t want to look at those on the plane. Eyes everywhere and all that.”

Jim gives him a sardonic look. “A flimsy excuse if you ask me,” he says, but he opens the folder and starts skimming through, eyes moving quickly over the words. Though, Sebastian thinks, not as quickly as usual. 

Sebastian shrugs and carefully drapes his arm over Jim’s shoulders. “Changes are changes. I know you like being prepared.”

“Hm, clever boy,” Jim hums, turning a page. He already looks more relaxed, less heavy than before. Sebastian smirks in triumph. 

“And the blueprints?”

“In a minute.” Jim shoots him a conspiratorial look. “I haven’t finished reading.” He shifts a bit, getting comfortable, until he’s nearly leaning against Sebastian’s chest.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile. He nods, feels Jim breathe evenly against him, and forgets about the London chill. 


	2. Making up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A kiss to make up

Sebastian opens the door to the flat, takes off his coat and shoes and heads straight to the bathroom to shower.

It’s raining. Hard. Which shouldn’t be surprising, since it’s London and Sebastian has lived here for years. The weather is the least surprising thing he has to deal with on a daily basis. He even likes it sometimes, the cloudiness that never seems to leave the city. It fits. It’s cozy. He doesn’t mind it.

What he does mind is being forced to lie on a roof for twelve hours in a torrential downpour only to find out that the target isn’t even going to show up. 

The door to the study opens as Sebastian passes and he barely avoids knocking into Jim. Not that he cares. Bastard.

“I thought I smelled wet dog,” Jim drawls. He scrapes his gaze over Sebastian, one eyebrow raised. And whether it’s because he’s surprised at Sebastian’s appearance or because he’s into the wet look, Sebastian doesn’t care enough to suss out. “I didn’t hear anything about rain.”

Sebastian shoots him a look as he strips off his clothes and heads into the bathroom. He’s leaving a trail of wetness on the carpet that Jim will probably bitch about later, but he doesn’t give a shit. Jim can officially fuck off.

He turns the water on in the shower and shucks his trousers off. It’s difficult because wet denim is  _ always _ difficult, but also because his muscles are stiff and his knee is acting up and he’s too annoyed for finesse. 

It’s a lot of things, really.

He’s dimly aware of Jim leaning in the doorway, looking very comfortable - very dry - in slacks and a sweater. 

“Something you need to get off your chest?”

“Twelve hours.” Seb tosses his trousers on the tile and they land with a wet thwap. He turns to Jim, lets the anger seep into his voice finally. “Twelve fucking hours and you knew the target wasn’t coming for six of them. What kind of fucking, arsehole- What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Jim doesn’t even bother looking up from his phone, just keeps doing…whatever the fuck he’s doing. As if Seb isn’t trying to rip him a new one. 

Granted, he’s half naked and dripping wet. So that probably takes some of the edge off. But still. This is supposed to be serious.

“I’m trying to yell at you and you’re not even paying attention. You’re-”

“Making dinner reservations for that place you like and then sucking your cock for a  _ very _ long time when we get home,” Jim says, so nonchalant Seb has to run the words through his mind a few more times before they make sense. Jim looks up, smirks at the undoubtedly stricken expression on Seb’s face. “Problem?”

Seb blinks. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. This is…not how he was expecting the conversation to go.

“I’m…confused.”

Jim walks over. He leans up and presses a quick kiss to Sebastian’s lips, smiling in a way that would be patronizing on anyone else, but on Jim it just looks fond.

“Dougherty took out the target at the first location. Of course he waited four hours to tell me so…”

Apprehension dawns on Seb. “The remaining two hours you were tied up fixing his mistake.” He sighs. “Shit.”

Jim offers him a tight smile. “Precisely.”

It rarely happens, but Seb feels something he thinks might be embarrassment flush his cheeks. He lifts a hand and scrubs it over the back of his neck, a nervous gesture he’s never been able to get rid of. “Right. Erm…Sorry?”

Jim gives him an unimpressed look. “I’m going to do us both a favor and pretend that this-” he gestures to Sebastian, indicating his little temper tantrum - “never happened. Sound good?”

Seb swallows, nods. “Great,” he says tightly.

“Good.” Jim gives him one last sweeping, appreciative look, then turns to leave. “And hurry up. 

Dinner’s in an hour.”

Seb smirks, unable to help himself. It’s not often he makes a mistake and Jim is still in a good mood. “You know, it’d be faster if we showered together,” he calls after him.

Jim doesn’t even hesitate. “Don’t push it,” he says, then closes the bathroom door. 


	3. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: teamwork 
> 
> CW: casual, non-graphic murder

“I think, Mr. Moriarty,” McNair says with a nasty grin, “that you’ve made a mistake coming here alone.”

“Have I?” Jim says, and Sebastian doesn’t even have to be in the room to know that Jim is rolling his eyes. There’s that lazy note in his voice, the one that means he’s bored. Sebastian inhales. “And why is that?”

It’s a script. One that they’ve both heard hundreds of times from a hundred different upstart criminals who think they can outsmart Jim. It’s fucking cliche and if Sebastian wasn’t concentrating so hard, he’d probably laugh. 

“Oh yes, Mr. Moriarty, you have. Because-“ Sebastian can see McNair take a step forward, a knife suddenly in his hand. Jim sighs, turns his head towards the window.

Sebastian exhales, pulls the trigger. 

McNair drops like a puppet with its strings cut and Sebastian doesn’t waste any time. He pulls his equipment close, starts taking apart the rifle and packs everything up with quick, practiced moves. 

“You alright?” he says after a few seconds of silence. 

“Hmm,” Jim hums over the comm, disappointment clear in his voice. “Fine. Wish he’d put up more of a fight, though.”

Sebastian snorts. “I thought the point of me being here is that they can’t put up a fight.” He hesitates, suddenly unsure. “Or did you not want-”

“No, it was good.” There’s a smile in Jim’s voice now. “You’re a very good boy, Seb. Such a good,  _ smart _ , obedient widdle sniper. Yes, you  _ are _ . Oh yes you-”

“Shut it, you. I’m assuming there’s a car waiting outside?”

Jim sobers, though he still sounds happy. Jobs that go off easily tend to have that effect on him. “Yes. The black one. I’ll meet you back at the flat.”

“Got it,” Seb nods. He walks down the stairs of the building and makes it out onto the pavement. It feels good to move after lying still for so long and he’s glad that he has to walk a few blocks to stretch his legs. “See you there?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jim purrs. “Ta, darling.”

The line goes dead and Sebastian smirks to himself as he strolls down the street, basking in the rare London sun.

 


	4. Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt: expectations

The text message said for him to come home immediately. He’d dropped the job as soon as possible, not even bothering to clean up first, instead calling in the clean up crew to finish what he’d already started. The clean up crew was usually a last resort, but usually Jim didn’t ask for help. If he really was in trouble then Sebastian thinks he’d probably excuse it.

Sebastian runs up the stairs to their flat. He nearly rips the doorknob off in his haste to get inside. 

“Jim?” He strides into the living room. He does a quick sweep, automatically searching for threats.

“In the bedroom,” Jim calls and Sebastian goes. He steps inside, heart pounding with adrenaline and, though he’d never admit it, fear. 

The door shuts behind him. Sebastian takes in his surroundings and stops. 

“Took you long enough,” Jim says, sounding relatively calm for someone supposedly in grave danger. 

Sebastian stares. “Are you-?”

“Handcuffed to the bed? Yes?” Jim shifts slightly, smirking. He tests the restraints a bit, arching his back in a way that even through the haze of anger, Sebastian thinks of as inviting. “I’m in need of assistance.”

Sebastian walks over to the bed and straddles Jim’s hips, gripping his wrists until he feels the bones grind under his fingers. 

“Then you called the wrong person, sweetheart.”


	5. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Morning pr0n and hot chocolate

Sebastian has always favored chill, October mornings. In India the air never cooled until the evening saw fit to stroll in, and in Afghanistan it was more of the same.

Years later, London’s bitterness still feels like a novelty. There’s nothing like it. The cold and the wet seeps into his bones and stays there until spring rolls around. Even then he feels like a drowned rat most of the time and it doesn’t do any favors for his joints.

_ God _ , he thinks, still bleary with sleep,  _ I’m old _ .

He blinks, becoming more aware of his surroundings the longer he’s conscious.He smiles. It’s not all bad.

Jim’s arm is wrapped around his waist like a vice. Most of his leg is shoved between Sebastian’s thighs, and - Sebastian looks over his shoulder - the blankets are pulled up to cover more than half his face. Sebastian smiles. If there’s one thing he’s learned, Jim doesn’t tolerate cold. The man’s worse than a fucking chihuahua. Although…

Sebastian pushes his hips back and - oh, yes. He smirks. Mornings are good for other reasons, too.

Jim makes a soft, disgruntled noise and Sebastian works on prying his fingers off. Sometime during the night Jim worked his hand underneath Sebastian’s shirt. The warm imprint of his palm feels like almost too much heat and suddenly, Sebastian longs for the cool air outside the blankets. He manages to lift Jim’s arm and turns to his side. Jim’s arm falls heavily back onto his ribs and Sebastian grunts. Jim’s eye opens.

“You have morning breath,” he murmurs, voice slurred with sleep. Sebastian wants to roll around in the sound of it. Jim’s accent is never quite right when he’s just woken up. It’s rougher, a little less posh. Hearing it feels like being let in on a secret.

“Shut up. So do you.” He leans in and presses his lips to the corner of Jim’s mouth. Jim turns his head away but leans his body more firmly against Sebastian’s chest, leeching his warmth.

“Then stop trying to kiss me,” he grumbles. His voice slides back into its usual accent mid-sentence and Sebastian smiles. Jim tucks his head underneath his chin and Sebastian looks down in time to see him close his eyes again. “What time is it?”

Sebastian looks over at the clock on the nightstand and frowns. “Nearly seven. Did we have anything planned today?” He’s learned that if he doesn’t ask, Jim won’t tell him. It’s mildly infuriating but Jim’s legs are still wrapped around Sebastian’s thigh and his morning hard-on is pressed to his hip - it’s difficult to be mad like this.

Sebastian works his hand beneath Jim’s shirt. He smooths his palm over his stomach then slides it into his pants. He drags his fingers along the length of Jim’s cock, keeping his touch purposely light, ready for Jim to shove his hand away. Despite his attraction to Jim when he’s wrapped up in a suit, haughty and powerful, Sebastian has to admit that there are advantages to seeing him like this too. Seeing Jim warm, still lazy with sleep, is doing something for him.

Surprisingly, Jim breathes out a short laugh. His hand shoots out for Sebastian’s wrist but he doesn’t pull him away. Sebastian stills, waiting for instruction, until finally Jim looks up at him. He licks his lips, impatient.

“Slow,” Jim says. He strokes his thumb over the vein in Sebastian’s wrist, then takes his hand away. “And no. We don’t have anything until tonight. Why?”

Sebastian shrugs. He marvels at the way Jim can keep his voice steady even when there’s a hand on his cock. The most inexplicable man.

“Just wondering,” Sebastian says. He strokes Jim loosely, enjoying how unhurried the moment feels. “Lazy mornings are rare.”

Jim closes his eyes and moves a little closer. He bites his bottom lip, mouths a curse word. “You call this lazy?”

“It’s a hand job.” Sebastian twists his hand on the next upstroke for emphasis and Jim’s breath catches. He smirks. “It doesn’t exactly require skill.”

He strokes down, then up, then twists his hand again.

“No, but- fuck.” Jim groans. He reaches out and grips Sebastian’s side, presses his fingers into the spaces between his ribs. His hips twitch into Sebastian’s hand before he can rein himself back in again.

Sebastian’s smirk widens. “‘Butt fuck?” He tightens his grip and stops moving his hand. He lowers his voice, surprised at how rough it sounds. “That might take a bit more effort, but I’m sure I could-“

"Sebastian,” Jim barks.

“Yes?”

Jim’s eyes burn. “If you don’t move your hand I’m going to make you eat your own eyes.”

Right. It’s not the scariest threat he’s ever received, but Jim is practically shaking with want or cold or maybe both. The sight is appealing enough that thoughts of any further teasing fly out of Sebastian’s mind. He surges forward and kisses Jim, morning breath be damned. He keeps his fist tight and moves his hand in short, firm strokes. It’s not playing fair, but judging by the way Jim’s breath quickens, by the moan that escapes him, he’s not going to complain.

“Just like that,” Jim gasps. “God, that’s perfect. That’s-” He cuts himself off. His nails dig into Sebastian’s skin and scratch down. Sebastian grits his teeth against the sharp pain and bites the edge of Jim’s jaw in retaliation which is, apparently, the last push Jim needs. He tenses, then comes into Sebastian’s hand, mouth open and eyes shut tight.

Sebastian works him through the aftershocks. He kisses the bite mark on Jim’s jaw and works his lips down his neck until Jim twitches and pushes his hand away, overstimulated.

“Fuck,” he says.

Sebastian hums in agreement and wipes his hand on the sheets. “Quite.” He looks at Jim, smirks. “Still cold?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he says, pulling the blankets back up over him. “And you still have morning breath.”

The air in the room still holds the remnants of a chill despite the sun starting to peak in through the windows. Sebastian stretches.

“Well I know a way to fix both of those things,” he says, rolling out of bed. Jim makes a quiet, unhappy noise and immediately moves to occupy the space Sebastian just left.

“How’s that?” he asks.

Sebastian grins. “Hot chocolate,” he says.

Jim rolls his eyes. “What are we? Eight?”

Sebastian stops halfway out the door. “Do you want hot chocolate or not?”

Jim seems to weigh his options for a moment before nodding. “Yes,” he says. “And hurry back. I’m not done with you.”

Sebastian turns to hide his smirk, whistling on his way to the kitchen.


	6. In the Band

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of a band au I sort of halfheartedly started writing because I got nostalgic for my own band days. Posted to tumblr for WIP Wednesday

Molly runs backstage looking panicked. Sebastian curses.

“Broken string?”

“This is the third time it’s happened this week!” she says by way of an answer. Sebastian wordlessly hands over the spare guitar, waiting as she tunes it frantically. Her hand slips. She hisses out what might have been a curse if it was anyone else. “It always snaps during that chord change. And we were supposed to go right into the next song.”

“Relax,” Sebastian says. “It’s not like they’re going to start without you.”

“It’s always me, though. They’re never waiting on anyone else. And that crowd isn’t going to like waiting.”

She’s got a point. There’d been a line outside the venue since the night before, dirty kids camped out and facing the January bitterness just to see their favorite band.

Sebastian had seen less tenacity in soldiers.

“Trust me,” Sebastian says, doing his job as manager to placate. “I don’t think they’re bored.”

“Why do you say that?”

Sebastian leans over and peers at the stage just in time to see Jim unzip his jeans and stick the mic down his pants. The girls in the front row scream so loud Sebastian’s sure they’ll be hoarse for a week.

“Just a hunch.” Jim catches his eye and winks. Sebastian frowns.  

“Ohh, they’re going to love that,” Molly mutters and Sebastian tears his eyes away from Jim just in time to see her sling the guitar strap over her shoulder and hurry back on stage.

Yeah, Sebastian thinks, watching as Greg counts them in for the next song and Jim throws himself into the vocals, lying on the floor during the guitar solo and tipping his head back to gaze at Sebastian with dark eyes. They are.


	7. Impact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt : Sebastian thought & feelings when he & Jim kiss, or fight physically, for the first time?
> 
> CW: hitting, kissing, Sebastian’s horny internal masochistic monologue

When Jim hits him it feels like coming home. Logically, it shouldn’t, but logical thought tends to go out the window whenever Jim is close. It’s something to do with the way he holds himself, the way he radiates power even though he’s at least a head shorter than Sebastian. It’s insanely attractive, which makes being touched, even painfully, more than a bit sweet. 

Sebastian holds a hand to his cheek. The skin is warm underneath his hand and it’s probably a nice shade of red by now. 

“You slapped me,” he says, more out of a need to make sure it actually happened than anything else. He coughs, trying to dislodge the huskiness from his voice. It wouldn’t do any good for Jim to know how he actually felt about being hit, which would probably fall under the category of insane arousal rather than anger. But he’s always been a good actor. “Like I’m your fucking dog or something.”

Jim raises an eyebrow, looking as if he hadn’t just lost control and hauled off. It’s messing with Sebastian’s head. Did he imagine it? 

“You weren’t listening,” Jim says, calm. “So I took some disciplinary measures. Problem?”

Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, actually. You can’t take ‘disciplinary measures’ on me like I’m a fucking child or-”

Jim closes the distance between them and backhands Sebastian again, harder than the first time. Sebastian’s head snaps to the side with the force of it, taking him by surprise. Jim doesn’t look like he can pack that much physical power into anything, but then he's always been full of surprises. Sebastian should have known being hit by him wouldn’t be the most comfortable experience.

But it’s not exactly uncomfortable either. 

Jim’s eyes flash. “And you’re still not listening,” he snarls. “What part of this are you having trouble with, Sebastian? Would you like me to explain it?”

And god, it’s a cliche, but he looks good when he’s angry. His cheeks are flushed and the line of his jaw is hard and his eyes are blazing and it would be nothing to lean forward a bit just to kiss him and-

“Oh,” Jim breathes. He blinks rapidly in what Sebastian has come to learn as his way of showing surprise, then smiles. “I don’t need to explain anything, do I? You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Sebastian swallows, heart beating so fast he’s sure it’s going to jump into his throat in a minute. Caught.

“Thought it was pretty obvious,” he says. He glances down at Jim’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Subtlety isn’t really one of my strong suits.”

“Apparently not,” Jim says, reaching up to curl his fingers in Sebastian’s hair. He pulls, and his eyes darken when Sebastian barely holds back a groan. It’s a satisfying sight. “Though this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

Sebastian smiles. He’s lost now entirely, and if it was anyone else he’d hate it. But it’s Jim. And he’ll always lose to Jim. 

“I hope not,” he says. “Now can I-”

“No.” Jim’s grip on his hair tightens. “Let me.”

He brings Sebastian closer and slowly, as if waiting for him to back out, presses their lips together. It’s chaste as far as kisses go, but Sebastian trembles, fighting to hold still. Jim hums against his lips and Sebastian locks his knees to keep them from buckling. He’s never been a fan of kissing before, but it’s Jim who’s got a hand in his hair and one on his waist and he smells  _ so good _ . It’s heady and intense and dizzying and Sebastian can’t figure out know why they didn’t do this sooner. 

After another minute, Jim pulls away. He licks his lips and leans his head back, eyes heavy. 

“Well then,” he says. 

Sebastian exhales slowly. “Indeed.”

“I’ll have to hit you more often,” Jim says, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. It’s insanely attractive and if the moment didn’t feel so fragile, Sebastian would lean in again and kiss it away. 

“I was kind of hoping you would,” Sebastian says. 

Jim’s nails scrape against his scalp. “Oh good,” he says, and suddenly pushes Sebastian hard against the wall, grinning. “Because I have plans.”


	8. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt for...something. I don't remember. 
> 
> CW: crack, cross dressing, Sebastian being horny on main

The door opens and Sebastian raises his gun. “Trick or treat,” he says with a smirk. He pulls the trigger and the man goes down with a muted thud on the plush carpet. With a quick look of distaste, Jim walks past him and into the house.

“Definitely trick,” he says. He crouches down, next to the man’s head, and takes the tiny microphone out of the man’s ear. He stands and hands it to Sebastian. “Take care of that, would you? And check the rest of the house while you’re at it.”

Sebastian crushes the ear piece under his boot and strides into the house. “I still don’t see why we had to dress up if this is all we’re doing. You made it sound like a party.”

“Like this” is Sebastian in gold short shorts, boots, and literally nothing else. He’s just grateful that this particular job is based in LA. There’s no way he would have agreed to this if they were in London, no matter how fetching Jim’s arse looks in tiny, lace knickers.

Although…Sebastian looks away from his camera search to glance at Jim. He smirks. It is quite a nice sight.

Jim pauses in looking through the folder on the coffee table to roll his eyes. “This isn’t all we’re doing. We’re still going to Rocky Horror, since you’re a virgin.”

“Whatever that means,” Sebastian grumbles. He fishes out a small microphone from behind a framed picture of one of the man’s relatives, and gives it the same treatment as the other one. It crunches like a cockroach under his heel.

He turns around to continue his search but suddenly, Jim is standing directly in front of him. Sebastian startles. Quiet little fucker. Jim grins.

“It means that  _ you _ are going to watch Tim Curry dance around in lingerie and  _ I  _ am going to get impressively drunk on the champagne I bought on the way over here.” He raises an eyebrow. “Capisce?”

Sebastian opens his mouth to argue, but thoughts of intoxicated, lingerie clad Jim make him think better of it. He closes his mouth so fast his jaw clicks. “Capisco.”

“Buono,” Jim says and god, Jim is speaking Italian and still wearing lingerie and Sebastian really hopes this sets the tone for the rest of the evening. Jim smirks, undoubtedly aware of the effect he’s having, and presses a kiss to Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian leans into it, but before he can pull him in, Jim has already turned away and is heading for the door. He carefully steps over the body and heads out of the house without another word.

Sebastian blinks, dazed for a moment, before following the sound of heels clacking along down the hall.

 


	9. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for some numbered prompt I don’t remember but it’s handcuffs and mild porn

Jim arches against Sebastian with a satisfied groan and drops his head, spent. “God,” he says, voice raw from moaning, “you’re getting good at that.”

“At what?” Sebastian asks, still panting slightly. He runs his hand down Jim’s back, tracing the curve of Jim’s arse, then carefully pulls out. He grimaces at the slick mess of lube and come that follows. “Fucking your brains out?”

“Mm,” Jim hums. “Yes.” He curls his fingers around the handcuffs keeping him tied to the headboard, then shifts his weight back until something cracks along his spine. It’s an appealing sight - so much so that Sebastian almost forgets to be offended.

“Haven’t I always been good at fucking your brains out?” he asks. He slides a finger along the crack of Jim’s arse, smirking when Jim shivers. “You never complained before.”

“There’s always room for improvement, darling.” Jim turns to looks at him, eyebrow raised. “Are you done playing with my arse?”

Sebastian shrugs, grinning. It’s rare that he gets Jim like this, mild and willing to be bound. He might as well push his luck. “Depends,” he says, pressing his finger inside of Jim and pressing down, making Jim twitch. “Do you want me to be?”

Jim tightens around his finger and Sebastian’s cock gives a valiant twitch. Jim smirks. “Not particularly. If you’re up for it.” He rolls his shoulders back, wincing. “But take the handcuffs off. They’re starting to chafe.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes but moves to the night stand anyway. “Oh no, not chafing,” he says, dry, as he opens the drawer. He sifts through the condoms, cock rings, knife, stray vibrator, searching for the key. He was sure it was there when they started. “God forbid anything mark your delicate, lily white skin.”

“Careful now,” Jim says. “When I get my hands on you, you’ll beg me to-  Why are you making that face?”

Sebastian turns to Jim. “Er, so about the key…”

“Seb,” Jim says, looking very dangerous all of a sudden; a true feat, considering his predicament. “Tell me you didn’t lose the key.”

Sebastian puts on his best charming smile.“I didn’t lose the key.”

“Are you lying?”

“…Yes.”

Jim’s eyes flash. “Sebastian, I-”

“Look, I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” He looks behind the nightstand, then around the side. He kneels down, checking under the bed, nerves increasing when it’s still nowhere to be found. “I must have just…dropped it or something.”

Jim isn’t hearing it. “If you don’t find that key in the next five minutes I’m going to fucking disembowel you, is that clear?” 

“Crystal,” Sebastian mutters. He stretches his hand out, blindly patting the ground. “Though I’m not sure how you’re going to do that unless you Houdini your way out, or break your own wrists, especially if you’re afraid of fucking chafing.”

The bed shifts, the handcuffs clink faintly. Sebastian sits up again. “What-”

Jim glares at him, one hand free of the cuffs, his wrist an angry red color. “Two minutes,” he snarls. “Disembowelment.”

Sebastian keeps looking.


	10. Vamps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much of an au that I should really just make it an original piece but OH WELL. Have some slayer!Jim and vampire!Seb. As ladies!

Sev tilts her head up, inhales slowly through her nose. Even after a hundred years London has the same smell - smoke and river water. It does nothing to mask the more organic human scents that hover in the air, but it does its best. It’s as if the city knows how deadly it is and is trying to mask the existence of its citizens altogether. Like a pathetic defense mechanism. 

India, on the other hand, was a lot more honest. Sitting on a sun warmed rock in the early evenings, dragging earth over her body to protect herself during the day, listening to the quiet thrum of the jungle and the nearby villages…It was easier. There was a black and white distinction between animal and human in the wilderness that made each kill purposeful, gave it more impact. 

Nobody cared if a few tigers died. But entire families…

Sev takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales a cloud of smoke, watches as the tendrils curl then fade into the night air. She smiles. It’s amazing which lives people prioritize. It’s even more amazing when you don’t prioritize any. 

She scans the street from her perch on the roof. Smatterings of people walk to and fro, from bars and restaurants and clubs. Couples touch, offer each other kisses. Friends laugh together with alcohol tainted breath. Music pounds from cars that pass by. 

This definitely wasn’t the London she left years ago. This one is new. The people, based on a few nights’ observation, are stupider. People aren’t as wary anymore. Murder isn’t sensationalized, but posted on the internet and then forgotten about a few days later. Modern London spins and spins and doesn’t stop for the dead. It’s…refreshing, actually, in a boring sort of way.

Sev drops down from the roof and lands in the alleyway. She flicks her cigarette to the ground and pushes her hair back. Even though it’s short, the wind whips it every time she moves. Normally she wouldn’t care, but scent carries easily. And she’d prefer to remain as anonymous as possible while she’s here. 

“Ooh, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Apparently it’s too much to ask for. 

Sev turns toward the voice, already set on dispatching whoever it is quickly and quietly. The less time she spends covering her tracks, the better. More time to spend on the reason she’s here in the first place.

She stops.

The owner of the voice - short, brunette, cow eyed - wiggles her fingers at Sev in greeting. She kicks her legs from her seat on the edge of a dumpster.

“Jen Moriarty.” She smiles. “Hi.”

Sev frowns, gives the woman a quick once over. She’s definitely human, but too cute to be hanging around in alleyways, like she’s fucking begging to be murdered.

Not that Sev wouldn’t oblige her - she’s never minded picking off the few Twilight addled girls who’ve stalked her over the years - it’s just that she has other things on her mind. There’s business to be done here.

She stuffs her hands in her pockets, doing her best to appear as harmless as possible, though if this girl saw Sev jump off the roof, there’s really no point. 

“Can I help you?” She’s not sure what else to say.

The woman - Jen cocks her head to the side, considering. “That depends if the rumors are true.”

“Which one?” Sev asks, grinning.

“There’s more than one?” 

Sev shrugs, though she doesn’t take her eyes off of Jen. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, they tend to pop up, yeah.”

The mirth drains from Jen’s eyes, leaving them cold, dark. The hair at the back of Sev’s neck stands up.

“How about the one where you’re looking for the slayer?” Jen asks. She hops down from her perch and strides over to Sev slowly, boots tapping on the wet pavement. She looks a lot taller suddenly, and Sev isn’t sure if it’s because of her shoes or the way she carries herself. Or both. Either way, she can’t help but be impressed. 

Then she plays back Jen’s sentence in her head. And everything makes a lot more sense. 

Sev smirks. “I’m guessing you take personal offense to that?”

Jen stops a few feet away from her. From here it’s hard to tell if she’s carrying any weapons, but considering who she is (or at least who Sev thinks she is), that doesn’t mean much. Slayers are good at improvisation. She’s learned that the hard way. 

“I take personal offense to any vampire who moves in without my say so,” Jen says. “Especially when that vampire is the Bangalore Terror.”

Sev can’t help her grin. “Are they still using that one? I left Bangalore ages ago. Too crowded for my taste.”

“And London is empty, is it?” Jen raises an eyebrow.

“Oh no, the opposite actually.” Sev smirks. “I heard that London has a slayer problem. I’m an excellent exterminator, you see.”

Usually that kind of threat has people scampering. Jen doesn’t even tense. “If you were that good, you would have found me first.”

“Who says I was looking for you?” Sev takes a few steps closer, feeling the distance between them too keenly for it to remain. “There are two of you, aren’t there?”

Jen nods. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“And I hear your counterpart is a lot pickier than you when it comes to say…massacring a bus full of tourists.”

Jen lets out a delighted peal of laughter. “Exactly. What dear Sherlock doesn’t know is that a man on that bus tried to blackmail me.” She pouts, eyes glinting. “It had to be done I’m afraid.”

Sev raises an eyebrow. “The whole bus though?”

Jen shrugs. “Collateral damage. Vampires smell blood and they tend to go a bit mad, as you well know. I didn’t have the heart to stop them.” She gives Sev a beatific smile and flutters her lashes. Something twists in Sev’s gut. She’s not sure if it’s unease or excitement, but either way she’s willing to stay to find out. Jen is giving every other slayer she’s met a run for their money and all Sev can think is  _ it’s about fucking time _ .

“So,” Jen claps her hands and her eyes go hard again, “since you and I are both looking to take down Holmes, and since every bloodsucker in the city answers to me anyway, how would you like to team up for a bit? There’s only so much you can do alone, after all.”

It’s a tempting offer, but working under someone she barely knows, someone who’s a fucking slayer of all things, doesn’t sound like the smartest idea. 

Or at least, she should gather some intel first. She hasn’t lived this long on chance alone. And London is new to her, or at least, this London is. 

Sev glances down at Jen’s hand, notes that her nails are painted a dainty pink, then looks back up. She stuffs her hands in her pockets. 

“I’ll be in touch,” she says. Jen drops her hand, her lips - pretty, full lips - form a tight line. Anger. That’s good. Sev’s always liked dragging strong emotions out of people. 

“If you say so,” Jen says. She flashes another wide smile, baring her teeth. “Or I certainly will be.”

Sev nods. She turns to the mouth of the alleyway, heart skipping beats, and lets the evening swallow her up. 


	11. Monopoly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fluff. So much silliness.

“It’s your turn, Seb.”

“No.”

“Sebastian, it’s your turn,” Jim repeats, holding out the dice to him. He’s doing his best to conceal it, but Sebastian can see the glint of triumph in his eyes. It’s the same one he always gets whenever he’s about to get his way. Usually, Sebastian loves that look. It means that a job has gone well, or a deal just came through, or that something decidedly kinky is about to happen.

This time, he hates it.

“I’m not rolling the fucking dice, Jim.”

“Why?” Jim asks, putting on the most hurt expression he can muster up. An Oscar winning performance. His eyes shine with unshed tears. “Don’t you want to play with me anymore?”

Sebastian doesn’t hesitate. “No.” He’s been on the receiving end of this particular manipulation tactic too many times to fall for it. 

Again.

The facade drops. “Why?” Jim demands.

Sebastian gestures expansively at the board. “Because this isn’t even playing anymore. This is you playing in the sandbox with your fucked up power complex. It’s not fun!”

“It’s fun for me,” Jim leers. Sebastian glares, drawing a cackle out of Jim. “Oh come on. You can’t just stop playing because you’re losing. I thought you liked competition. Isn’t this why we started playing in the first place?”

Sebastian huffs out a sigh. “I do like competition. But I don’t see the competition in continuing this.”

“How?”

Sebastian makes a choked noise of disbelief. “You’ve bought every single property on the board! If I roll anywhere I’m going to have to pay you and I’ll be forced to declare bankruptcy and lose. This is slow financial death.”

“Hm,” Jim tuts, looking at Sebastian’s measly pile of monopoly money. “I see your point. But if you roll a five then you can pass go and get more money. That might help.”

“But the chances of me rolling a five are-”

“Not terrible,” Jim finishes for him, tapping his chin as he thinks. “Or you could always roll any number and ask for a loan from the bank by mortgaging a property.”

“You’re the bloody banker,” Sebastian grits out, grinding his teeth when Jim laughs.

“And you don’t have any properties to mortgage. Would you look at that.” Jim smirks. His eyes turn to the same cold flint they always do when he knows he’s got someone right where he wants them. Having that stare directed his way makes Sebastian’s skin crawl. He’s only ever seen it turned on other people, and then it had been fun because he knew it was the precursor to seeing Jim go in for the kill.

Now it’s just infuriating.

“Looks like someone’s in a little bit of a pickle,” Jim sings, voice derailing with glee. He leans forward, intent.

“Roll.”

“No.”

“Then forfeit.”

“Not doing that either.”

“If you refuse to take your turn then I win by default,” Jim snaps. He leans forward, crowding into Sebastian’s space with a sadistic grin. “Come on, Seb. Didn’t the army teach you to accept loss gracefully?”

Something in Sebastian’s mind snaps. “Yeah, they did,” he says, taking the dice from Jim finally. He tosses them to the other side of the room, and with one quick motion flips the board over, scattering cards, money, and little plastic tokens onto the hardwood floor with a satisfyingly loud clatter. Jim splutters, and Sebastian can already feel the injuries he’s going to get for this.

“Why you little-”

“I was dishonorably discharged,” Sebastian interrupts with a shrug. “Do you really think I listened?”

Jim lunges, and Sebastian falls back laughing under the stream of curses and threats being hurled at him while he does his best to defend himself.

Across the room, the dice roll to a stop: two and three facing up.


	12. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: omegaverse, mpreg, abortion mention. Nothing graphic but it’s there.

The stick is blue.

Or, more accurately, the tiny plus sign on the strip is blue. 

Jim squints. He shakes the stick a little, looks at it, then shakes it more vigorously. He looks at it again. Still blue. 

Fuck. 

He places the test on the sink and leans against the wall of the bathroom, staring. He tries to think, tries to focus on the facts.

Like the fact that there is currently a baby inside of him. And not just anyone’s baby, but his baby. And Sebastian’s baby. He supposes that Sebastian’s important in this, too. To an extent.

That extent being that there’s no way Sebastian’s ever going to find out about this. _ No one’s _ ever going to find out about this. He has protocols in place for this kind of thing. He always has. Ever since he found out he was an omega, he’s known that should an accident ever happen he’d take care of the problem. Kids aren’t on his list of wants; they never have been. Biological imperative and instincts can go fuck themselves. 

Jim takes his phone out of his pocket and glances through his contacts. He stops at his doctor’s name. Just one phone call, one appointment, and then he could forget about the whole thing. He could act like this never happened. If anything, he could chalk it up as a learning experience. It’s his fault for fucking around with his contraceptives anyway. 

His thumb hovers over the number. The phone shakes in his hand. 

“Jim?” Sebastian’s voice echoes through the flat, into the bathroom. The front door shuts. “You home?”

Jim glances at the test again. He catches a glance at himself in the mirror - wide eyed, looking like a deer caught in the headlights- and slowly inhales. He rolls his shoulders back, straightens. He wraps the test in a wad of toilet paper and tosses it into the trash can. He exhales.

“Been home for hours,” Jim says as he walks out of the bathroom. “What do you think about Thai tonight, hm? Daddy’s got a craving.”

Sebastian laughs, lights up like Christmas the way he always does when he sees Jim after a long day, and Jim decides.

There’s no need for rash decisions. He’ll think on it.

 


	13. Commando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt: "I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear."

The door to the flat slams closed. Sebastian turns quickly and has Jim pinned against it before he has time to consider the consequences. 

Jim shifts against him, looking amused. “I don’t know why, but for some reason I didn’t think your lust for blood would turn into, well… actual lust.”

Sebastian leans in and kisses the side of Jim’s neck, smirking. “I don’t have a lust for blood,” he says, yanking Jim’s collar out of the way. He grazes his teeth over the side of Jim’s neck, presses his tongue against his pulse and sighs as he feels it beat, nice and strong. Thank god. “I have a lust for you not getting yourself killed. What were you thinking?”

“That you’d end up fucking me into the wall when we got home,” Jim says, too casually for Sebastian’s liking. Knowing Jim it’s not a joke. 

Sebastian growls, “Not funny.” 

It isn’t funny. Seeing Jim stare down the barrel of a gun and fucking  _ smile _ isn’t an image Sebastian’s going to get out of his head any time soon. 

Jim laughs and tilts his head to the side, giving Sebastian better access. “Not to you, maybe. Does it bother you that I know exactly how to get what I want from you?”

Sebastian moves his hand down, cups Jim’s cock through his trousers. Jim gasps and Sebastian smiles. He knows he’s being manipulated, but right now the thought of having Jim hot, writhing against him and alive is more important than his bloody pride. 

“No,” he says, tightening his grip. Jim smirks, pleased. He grips Sebastian’s shoulders and hops up, wrapping his legs around Sebastian’s waist. 

“Good,” he says, grunting when Sebastian slams him back into the wall. His hands are already at the zipper of Sebastian’s trousers, trembling a bit. Sebastian grins. At least he’s not the only one panting for it. 

Jim leans in, flicks his tongue against the shell of Sebastian’s ear. “Then I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear.”


	14. Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An In the Flesh au drabble someone had asked for.
> 
> CW: zombies, angst, grief, poor coping mechanisms

Jim looks different. Sebastian supposes that’s to be expected, though. You don’t come back from the dead looking the same. No one does. Has. But it’s “perfectly normal” according to the pamphlets the smiling woman from the clinic had given him. And besides, there’s makeup and contacts for that. Not that Jim will wear them.

The brown contacts even close to dark enough. And black wasn’t quite right, anyway.

Sebastian watches Jim breeze through the walk in closet. His strut is still the same, maybe a little less graceful than before, but it’s still his walk. No one else in the world walks like that.

He runs his fingers over one of his suit jackets and slides his gaze over to Sebastian. “You kept my clothes.”

It’s not a question, but there is curiosity in Jim’s voice and- god, that voice. Sebastian hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. It was different when Jim spoke at the clinic. He’d been using his public voice, the sickeningly sweet normal one. The Richard Brook one.

He shrugs. He’s been playing the expressionless body guard ever since he’d arrived at the clinic. It’s easier to play a role. This way he can compartmentalize. Although…

There’s a part of him that wants to drop the act, that just wants to be the person who guarded their flat like a fortress when the rising happened. He wants to be the person who’d raged, who had practically destroyed himself after Jim died. He wants to be the person who hadn’t slept during the worst parts of the rising, too afraid that Jim would come for him. He wants to be the person who was scared he’d have to watch Jim die a second time. That he’d have to kill him.

“You were only gone six months,” Sebastian says. His voice is even. Good. “And then Sherlock Holmes came back. Alive. So I-” He stops.

Jim tilts his head towards Sebastian. The movement is reptilian, familiar, and it’s fucked up but seeing it calms Sebastian down. The emotion lodged in his throat unsticks a little.

“You thought I might be alive, too,” Jim finishes for him.

“You were wrong,” Sebastian says by way of an answer. He doesn’t want to think about the hope that had burned in him when he heard about Holmes coming back. He doesn’t want to think about how painful it was to have his faith in Jim fray and finally snap. “About Holmes. He won. He-”

“I miscalculated,” Jim says. His voice is calm but there’s an edge of impatience to it. The rage flares in Sebastian’s chest at the sound.

“Pretty fucking big miscalculation,” Sebastian spits. He walks back into the bedroom. He can feel Jim’s eyes on him. Jim’s eyes that aren’t brown and deep anymore, but dead. Stupid, colorless rotter eyes just like all the rest of them.

He leans his head against the bedroom door, tries to tamp down the panic that rises like bile in his throat.

Jim is alive. Technically. But Jim was dead. He had killed himself. When he hadn’t seen him during the rising, Sebastian thought that maybe it wasn’t true. That maybe he was playing dead like Holmes, but was taking more time to come back.

But then he’d gotten the call from the clinic. And Sebastian had gone as soon as he was allowed. And there was Jim, grey, lifeless, and dead. And the woman from the clinic with her pamphlets and talk about PDS and injections and Jim had just stared at him the whole time, unblinking, like…

A cold hand closes around his wrist. Sebastian jerks away, but Jim’s grip is tight. 

“Breathe,” Jim says and Sebastian realizes that he’s hyperventilating. He does as he’s told and takes a deep, shuddering inhale through his nose, then out through his mouth. Slow.

Jim pulls, tries to get Sebastian to face him, but Sebastian shakes his head. He can’t. Not like this. Not right now.

Jim sighs. Slowly, like he’s giving Sebastian a chance to stop him, he wraps his arms around Sebastian’s waist and pulls him close. Sebastian closes his eyes and, slowly, lets instinct takes over. He leans back against Jim’s chest and bites his cheek to repress a sob because…

Jim feels the same. He’s still solid, still the same shape, the same build.

He still feels like home.

“I miscalculated,” Jim says again. “It wasn’t… It was dark and I was… I miscalculated.”

His fingers twist in Sebastian’s shirt, then relax, smooth over the fabric as he reigns himself in again. There’s apology in his voice, or maybe it’s regret. With Jim, they’re usually one and the same.

Sebastian nods. He covers one of Jim’s hands with his own, twines their fingers together. Jim is cold, alarmingly so. Sebastian’s touched enough dead bodies to know what they feel like.

He forces himself to squeeze Jim’s hand.

“A miscalculation,” Sebastian murmurs. “You’re sure?”

Jim relaxes a bit. He pushes his face against Sebastian’s back and Sebastian feels his chest expand as he inhales deeply through his nose. He breathes Sebastian in, then nods. “Definitely.”


	15. To the Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for an anon asking for edging. I'm powerless to those type of asks. 
> 
> CW: rimming, edging, orgasm denial

”When I said I was bored,” Jim says, breathless, “I didn’t mean for you to take it as a challenge.”

Sebastian grins against the small of Jim’s back. He’s got Jim propped against the armrest of the couch, arse in the air, trousers and pants bunched around his thighs, hair in his eyes, trembling. They’ve been at this for the past thirty minutes and the fact that he’s only complaining now is a testament to his stamina. Or patience. Probably a bit of both, actually. Sebastian isn’t sure. His brain stopped making sense a while ago.

“Didn’t you?” he asks. He slides his thumb between Jim’s arse cheeks, following the shiny trail of his own saliva, and presses against Jim’s hole. Jim’s breath hitches and Sebastian grins. “It definitely sounded like a challenge.”

More like a demand, come to think of it. Jim had looked very imperious when he’d voiced his ennui earlier. He’d even followed it with a raised eyebrow. 

Sebastian is helpless against that kind of blatant insinuation.

It’s a marked difference to how Jim looks now though. He looks over his shoulder - lips red, eyes dark, gorgeous - and glares. 

“Are you questioning my intentions?" 

Sebastian hesitates, trying to suss out how annoyed Jim actually is. It wouldn’t be the first time sex was ruined because he misread Jim’s mood. “No,” he says carefully. He reaches down and slides his palm over Jim’s balls, purposely avoiding his cock. “I’m just working you up.”

Jim groans and arches his back. “I’ve been worked up for a while, my dear,” he breathes. “Get on with it.”

"Fine, fine.” Sebastian leans down and flicks his tongue over Jim’s hole, smirking. He’ll never tell Jim that he likes the way his voice gets when he’s impatient. “Pushy.”

“Mm, no,” Jim hums, dropping his head down again. “I’m simply telling you what I want. You’re the one who’s always saying communication is impor- Oh fuck, do that again.”

Sebastian twists his hand around Jim’s cock again, at the same time curling his tongue inside of him. The noise Jim makes in return is definitely worth the ache starting to form in Sebastian’s jaw. He does it again, then once more, feeling a drop of liquid leak from the tip of Jim’s cock as he slowly fucks him with his tongue. 

"Seb,” Jim gasps, sounding so utterly wrecked that Sebastian reaches down and presses his palm against the painfully hard line of his cock in his jeans, just to take the edge off. Jim rocks back against Sebastian’s face, panting. “I’m-”

For a second, Sebastian considers just letting Jim go. He thinks of how he’d tense, how he’d moan, long and loud, the way he always does when he orgasms. He thinks of the heavy lidded look of satisfaction on Jim’s face as he comes down from the high. 

But he doesn’t want to give this up. Not just yet. 

Seb pulls away and squeezes the base of Jim’s cock, hard. Jim stills and lets out a whine of frustration. His grips the couch, white knuckled, and whips his head around, glaring. 

“What-”

“I told you I was working you up,” Sebastian says with a quick smile. He strokes Jim once, quickly, and cocks an eyebrow. “I could just stop completely if you’d prefer-”

Jim’s eyes are wild. “If you stop now, I’m going to, to…replace your fingernails with…with…”

Sebastian smirks and continues running his fingers along the length of Jim’s cock, amused. “With?”

“Glass shards,” Jim says, breathless once more. He rocks his hips into Sebastian’s hand. “Seb.”

He says it so softly, with so much need. Sebastian groans. Suddenly the thrill of sadism isn’t as potent. Now, he just wants to see Jim come.

“Right.” He nods and wraps his fingers around Jim’s cock, stroking him quickly. He licks his index finger, then, slowly, pushes it inside of Jim. It’s easy enough. Jim is relaxed and loose from Sebastian’s tongue, and when Sebastian presses down, Jim jolts, moaning. 

“Seb,” he gasps. He rocks his hips, caught between pushing forward into Sebastian’s hand and back into his fingers. “Close, I’m so-” 

“Come for me.” Sebastian rubs against Jim’s prostate, enjoying the noise it wrings out of him. He grips Jim’s cock a little tighter, quickening his hand. “Come on.” 

Jim moans, completely filthy, and tenses. He comes over Sebastian’s hand, thighs shaking, and Sebastian presses his hand back against the front of his jeans. Watching Jim let go always gets to him. 

Jim lets out a string of barely coherent curses as Sebastian strokes him through it.  Eventually Jim’s fingers wrap around Sebastian’s wrist, stopping him.Sebastian can’t help but feel a bit smug. 

He leans in, covering Jim with his body, and kisses the back of his neck. “Glass shards, huh?” 

Jim, surprisingly enough, lets out an amused huff. He pushes up onto his elbows and looks at Sebastian from the corner of his eye. “Pointy ones.” 

Sebastian nods solemnly. “I’ll remember that next time.” 

Jim raises an eyebrow, and Sebastian can tell he’s fighting a smile. “You think there will be a next time?” 

Sebastian frowns. He doesn’t like where this is going. He especially doesn’t like the predatory glint in Jim’s eyes. “What are you getting at?” 

“Turn about,” Jim says, reaching back and gripping Sebastian’s hair, “is fair play, darling.”

Sebastian’s cock throbs in his jeans. He swallows heavily. “What-“

“Bedroom.” Just like that the commanding tone is back in Jim’s voice, as if he hadn’t been a writhing, needy mess only a few seconds ago. Sebastian will be damned if it’s not the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Jim rolls out from under him, then grips his collar, and pulls him close. “Now.”


	16. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt: flower language
> 
> CW: lady mormor, angst

The park bench is cold beneath Sebastian’s legs, and she shudders in the chill, autumn air.

“Do you really have to do this?” she asks. She concentrates on the water fountain, on the children running about, the leaves scattering in the breeze, searching for any excuse not to look at the woman sitting beside her. “You have every resource available to you, and faking your death is really the only thing you can think of?”

She feels Jim shift for the birdseed in her pocket as a curious pigeon shuffles hopefully in their direction. When she speaks, she’s unusually subdued.

“I won’t be gone long, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She sounds British today, and Sebastian can’t tell if she’s doing it to be comforting or annoying.

It’s verging very closely on the latter.

Sebastian lights a cigarette and leans back, spreading her arm across the back of the bench. Her hand brushes Jim’s jacket and she suddenly wishes they weren’t in public so she could touch her, really touch her.

“Is that a promise?” she asks. The pigeon pecks at an acorn lying on the ground and Sebastian shoos it away with her foot. She reaches down as Jim speaks, examining it.

“Why?” Jim turns towards her, all red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Sebastian wishes they were still in bed, wishes that Jim was still sleeping warmly beside her, makeup-less and unarmed. “Will you miss me?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer. By now, she knows better than to give in to Jim’s goading. Instead, she keeps her attention on the acorn. It’s perfect, like the ones in cartoons and paintings, and her grandmother’s words float through her mind along with the image of her ridiculously stereotypical English garden.

“Here,” she says, and drops the acorn into Jim’s palm. It lands in the pile of birdseed in her hand. “A going away present.”

Jim blinks, and raises an eyebrow. “How…thoughtful.”

Sebastian ignores her tone and takes an indulgent drag of her cigarette, savoring the feeling of smoke clouding up her lungs. It chases away the cloying smell of the bath bomb Jim had dropped into the tub that morning; the one Sebastian had complained about before Jim sank into the water and leaned against her. She regrets smoking immediately.

“My grandmother said that they represent immortality,” she says, aware of Jim’s eyes on her. She shrugs. “So.”

The brush of lips against her cheek, lingering for a bit. Sebastian closes her eyes, inhaling Jim’s smell - vanilla and something unidentified but decidedly spicy - before she pulls away.

“Very thoughtful,” Jim says. Her accent is soft and Irish again. Sebastian closes her eyes, reveling in it.

The rest of the bird seed scatters on the ground, followed by some appreciative cooing, and Jim stands, brushing her hands off on her coat. She glances at her phone, then at Sebastian.

“I suppose I’ll see you at home then,” she says. Sebastian looks up to meet her eyes. She’s tall in her heels. With the sun behind her she strikes an impressive figure.

Sebastian wishes she could see her eyes more clearly.

“I suppose you will.” Sebastian flicks her cigarette onto the dirt and grinds it out with the toe of her boot.

Jim grins widely, and blows her a kiss before walking away. Sebastian waits until the clicking of her heels fades. She watches Jim cross the street and disappear into St. Barts.

She goes home.


	17. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an excerpt from a stupidly long wip that, if I ever get around to finishing, probably won’t look anything like this. I really enjoy this little snippet though, which is why I posted it for WIP Wednesday.
> 
> CW: omegaverse, dub/non-con mentions, alternate genetics and social norms

The next time his heat hits Sebastian prepares for it. Suppressants, though handy in lessening the effects of a heat, can’t completely eliminate it from happening all the time. In order to stay healthy Sebastian has to endure at least a few heats a year. When he got back from the army he considered throwing caution to the wind and buying the black market drugs that would stop it completely, but then Jim had hired him and staying in peak physical condition became top priority.

Not that he’s sure Jim couldn’t come up with something if Sebastian asked him to, but becoming one of Jim’s experiments doesn’t appeal to him.

Or at least, he pretends it doesn’t.

They’re finishing up a job in Sweden when the alarm on Sebastian’s phone goes off.

Jim, who’d been watching blood circle the drain in the floor of the warehouse, looks up sharply.

“What’s that for?”

Sebastian turns the sound off and continues packing up. “Twenty four hours until my next heat,” he says, not feeling as nonchalant as he sounds. It’s still awkward talking about it so openly, even now that Jim knows. “I figured I’d set an alarm this time, that way there won’t be any surprises.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. He cuts a striking figure against the open door of the warehouse. It’s been snowing for the past hour and his black coat and hair make him stand out from the endless white outside.

“Really?”

Sebastian zips his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I have to have it at some point. And this was the only job you gave me this month. I figured I wouldn’t get another opportunity any time soon. Why?”

Jim shrugs. “Nothing. Just glad to see that you’re planning better this time.”

Sebastian sighs. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

“No,” Jim says. He smiles suddenly, the first real one Sebastian’s seen since they arrived, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “You blush when I talk about it. Did you know?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and pats his pockets for the car keys. “I don’t blush,” he says, distracted. He had the keys when they walked in. Where-

“You do,” Jim says, suddenly too close. Sebastian takes a step back, surprised, but Jim’s fingers dip into his back pocket, brushing him as he pulls out the keys. He smirks. “Like you’re blushing now.”

Sebastian scowls down at Jim, grateful for the height difference, not that it helps much. Jim somehow manages to be an intimidating little shit even though he doesn’t tower over most people. 

Sebastian holds out his hand. “Are you done?”

“No.” Jim delicately places the keys in Sebastian’s palm, then turns on his heel to the exit. “But we have a flight to catch so we’d better be off, especially if you’re going to start smelling up the place soon.”

“Not exactly keen on having you paw at me, either,” Sebastian says, grinning when Jim laughs. He walks outside and immediately pulls his coat closer. He’d expected the temperature to drop once night fell, but he didn’t expect the icy chill in the wind. He hurries over to the car and starts it, then unlocks the door for Jim.

Jim gets in and reaches over to crank the heat, looking sour. He doesn’t do well in extreme temperatures, Sebastian’s learned. It’s why he prefers London. It’s always the same, mildly damp weather.

“Is that a thing?” Jim asks. “Pawing?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, surprised that Jim even has to ask. “Generally,” he says, thinking about his experiences at school, the few fairly decent alphas he’s met before. “Or at least they do during heats. I suppose it depends.”

“On?”

Sebastian shrugs. He lights a cigarette as he puts the car into gear. He inhales, glad for the taste of tobacco and the heat in his lungs. It’s not much help against the cold but it is nice to have, especially if they’re having this conversation. “On the type of alpha, usually.” He shoots Jim a sideways glance as he pulls onto the road. “Don’t you know?”

“I’ve never fucked an alpha,” Jim says, sounding thoughtful, “or been in heat. So no, I don’t.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been with an omega before,” Sebastian says. Because of course he has. Alphas don’t not fuck omegas. Even if they don’t particularly like the way heats make them lose their minds, they do it at least once before they’re finished school. Things happen when hormones are firing everywhere and before anyone learns how to control themselves. It just…is.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Jim smirks and leans back in his seat. “And anyway, pawing is the least of your worries, my dear.”

Sebastian snorts. “Is it?”

“Yes.” Jim shoots Sebastian a meaningful, slightly sinister glance. “You wouldn’t be able to fight me off if you went fully into heat. You wouldn’t want to.”

Sebastian swallows. He can’t exactly argue with that. His self control is fairly strong, but it’s hard to push away normal alphas during heat. Pushing away someone he’s actively attracted to on a, and not just someone but  _ Jim _ , would take will power he’s not sure he has.

Sebastian swallows and tries not to white knuckle the steering wheel, keenly aware of Jim’s eyes on him.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you have alarms,” Jim says softly, then, finally turns away, focused on his phone again. “Take the main street. We’re going to the airport.”

Sebastian breathes a sigh of relief and floors it.

 


	18. Art school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: DO JIM AND SEB AT ART SCHOOL PLS. Jim is really pretentious and knows all his art history and is amazing at his craft. Sebastian's messy and prefers 3D stuff like wood work and sculptures and he always has varnish or paint on his arms.

“I have no idea how you’re doing this while I’m moving,” Sebastian says, searching his table for the cutting torch. He’d had it a second ago, or at least he thought he did. Why did nothing ever seem to stay where he’d left it? “Can’t you get someone else to hold still for you? What about one of the figure models from class?”

He moves away from the table and his foot kicks something that skids across the room.

The cutting torch.

“I would, but they all gave me strangely vague answers,” Jim hums from where he’s sitting on one of the desks, sketchpad in his lap and pencil in hand as he glances up from the paper to Sebastian. His hand moves quickly. “For some reason they seemed uncomfortable with the idea of me staring at them for too long.”

Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “I can’t imagine why.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

Sebastian momentarily ignores him in favor of bending the piece of metal he’s working with until it curves the way he likes. The line of paint on his skin cracks with the movement and he grins. “No, I don’t mind. You should know that by now.”

He glances over at Jim, unsatisfied when he only raises an eyebrow instead of shooting back with a bitchy comment. But Jim was always like that when he was focused on something particularly hard. He’d been like that since they met in freshman year and Sebastian decided he’d like some of that intensity focused on himself, too. 

Like right now.

Sebastian places the sheet of metal back on the table and goes over to Jim. He puts both hands on either side of Jim’s legs and leans forward to look at his sketchpad. Their foreheads touch.

“Can I help you with something?” Jim asks, the sweetness of his tone making known how annoyed he is.

“Just looking,” Sebastian says.

Jim wrinkles his nose. He starts to pull away but Sebastian’s arms cage him in.

“Ugh, you smell like varnish.”

“Shush.” Sebastian tilts his head slightly to look at Jim’s drawing. It’s amazing, of course. They always are. Jim’s managed to capture most of Sebastian’s likeness despite how much he’s been moving.

What really gets Sebastian’s attention is the fact that Jim has definitely drawn him naked.

Sebastian lets out a low whistle and feels a smirk make its way to his face. “You’re going to hand this in for Smith’s assignment?”

Jim shrugs. “I was going to erase your face later. I figured the practice would be nice.” He looks up. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”

“Not at all, just surprised,” Sebastian leans in to brush his nose over Jim’s temple, breathing in the clean smell of his shampoo. “You don’t usually do nudes.”

Jim tenses. “No, but like I said-” Sebastian’s lips meet his earlobe and he shudders. “Practice.”

“Right.” Sebastian says, grazing his teeth over Jim’s neck, feeling his pulse jump. “Then how about I give you a practical body demonstration right now?”

Jim snorts and puts his hands on Sebastian’s chest. For a minute Sebastian thinks he’s going to push him away, but Jim only grabs his shirt and pulls him closer, kissing him.

“If you ever say ‘practical body demonstration again’ I’ll have your tongue cut out.”

Sebastian bites Jim’s bottom lip, and growls. “Yes, sir.”


	19. Wholesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cutest ask ever for some bdsm writing. In case you are new, casual and sweet bdsm and power dynamics are my jam.
> 
> CW: breathplay, D/s, impact play, very brief breathplay

“I’m-”

“Down.”

“Fine, but the knee-”

Jim shoves the back of Sebastian’s un-injured knee with the end of the cane and Sebastian crumples. His bad knee lands on something soft - a pillow probably - much to his surprise.

“Ah.” He blinks. “Thanks.”

“Ye of little faith,” Jim sighs. His slides his hand into Sebastian’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Sebastian has to fight not to arch into it. After being hurt for so long even the littlest bit of affectionate touch feels like heaven. 

Of course it doesn’t last very long. Jim grabs a handful of Sebastian’s hair and yanks his head back. The smooth wood of the cane is suddenly against his throat, cutting off most of his air. 

“Don’t I always take care of you?” Jim’s voice in his ear, his breath hot against Sebastian’s skin. “Don’t I take care of my favorite toys?”

Sebastian tries to answer but can’t draw enough breath to actually vocalize anything. He nods instead, hoping it’s sufficient. 

Apparently not. Jim bites the side of Sebastian’s neck, hard, and Sebastian chokes on a groan. The pressure from the cane eases up a bit, enough for him to draw a full breath finally. 

“Sorry,” Jim says conversationally. He licks over the bite mark, drawing a shudder from Sebastian. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Yes,” Sebastian gasps. “Fuck, yes. You always do, you sick fucking-”

“Careful.” Jim draws his nails down Sebastian’s chest, over his stomach, stopping just over the bulge in Sebastian’s trousers. “We wouldn’t want to say anything we regret, would we?”

Sebastian manages a short laugh. “Yes, we would.”

“Really?” Jim pauses. Slowly, he presses his palm over Sebastian’s cock, folds his hand around the hard shape of it. “Because I could do this all night, my dear. Is that what you want?”

Sebastian bites his lip to hold back another sound, restrains himself from shifting his hips into Jim’s hand. Even through the haze of sub-space he recognizes the question for what it is - Jim’s way of checking in without showing that he actually cares. It’s sweet, really. Or at least as sweet as Jim gets, which isn’t much.  But still. It’s appreciated. 

Sebastian considers it. His knee isn’t causing him excruciating pain at the moment, but if they keep this up much longer walking will become a problem for the next day or so. 

“It is what I want,” Sebastian says after a moment. His words come out a little slurred and he really wishes he cared more about that. “But can we move to the bed?”

Jim raises an eyebrow. Sebastian sighs, barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes. 

“Please?”

“That’s a good boy.” Jim presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek and moves back. “You can get on the bed.”

“Thank god.” Sebastian starts the awkward balancing act of standing up while handcuffed, but the cane crashes onto his shoulder, sending him toppling forward. The pain radiates through his back, momentarily stunning the confusion out of him.

“The fuck-” He looks back at Jim, who’s smiling sweetly, cane resting over his shoulder.

“I suppose I should have clarified,” he says. He yanks Sebastian’s trousers over his arse and down his thighs. “You can move to the bed after you’ve earned it.”

“Bastard,” Sebastian growls, and revels at the answering strike.


	20. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potterlock au

“You do know that you’re perfectly visible from this side of the room, don’t you?” Irene asks, voice a little louder than usual so she can be heard. She sits on the chair behind the large leather sofa, crossing her legs daintily, and examining her nails. There’s a muffled curse, a frustrated groan, and then a second later Jim Moriarty’s face appears over the back of the couch, looking noticeably more ruffled than Irene can ever remember him.

She grins, wiggling her fingers in greeting.

Jim doesn’t look so amused. “You’re late.”

“And you were distracted anyway so I hardly think it matters,” Irene counters. “Hello, Sebastian.”

Sebastian appears next to Jim a moment later, looking just as disgruntled, though she has a feeling it’s not because of her tardiness. “Irene.”

“I was distracted  _ because  _ you were late,” Jim growls. He runs a hand through his hair, and straightens his tie, immediately immaculate. There’s a terrifying kind of magic in Jim Moriarty’s hands, she thinks as he strides over. He takes a seat in the chair opposite the one she’s sitting in. “And you’re wrong.”

Irene raises an eyebrow. “Wrong?”

“We’re not visible from your side of the room.” He flashes a quick grin. “Trust me, I’ve checked.”

She shrugs. “It got your attention.”

“So would knocking,” Sebastian grumbles, fumbling with his shirt as he walks over. Irene eyes the patch of skin visible where the two sides of shirt hang apart from each other, and catches sights of what looks like the beginning of a bruise. He catches her eye, and she smirks, unable to help but wonder where else he’s marked.

Jim clears his throat, eyes narrowed, and Irene leans back. She shrugs. “It’s the common room. Public space. You can’t exactly blame me for walking in.” She glances at Sebastian again, this time letting her gaze linger before sliding back to Jim. “Or looking.”

Jim glares at her openly, but when he speaks, his voice is pleasant. “No, but I can blame you for wasting my time,” he says, sliding his hand onto Sebastian’s thigh and squeezing when he perches on the arm of the chair. It’s a claim - unnecessary in Irene’s opinion (the name Moriarty has been synonymous with Moran since first year) - but a claim nonetheless. 

And it’s still fun to prowl its borders.

“I’m risking my reputation doing this for you. You should be grateful.”

“There are plenty of people willing to help me. I can always go to them.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Perhaps-”

“What did you find out?” Sebastian interrupts before the argument can escalate, doing an impressive job of ignoring the black look Jim shoots him. But then, he must have some practice. Irene rolls her shoulders back. She smooths her hands over her skirt.

“According to my sources-”

“Mudblood Hooper,” Sebastian says with relish.

“ _ Molly _ Hooper.” Irene nods, ignoring the defensive urge that rises within her at Sebastian’s tone. “According to her, the elder Holmes brother isn’t just a rising star in the Ministry anymore. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like.”

“Of course not. He’s been there more than a year. He’ll have the entire Ministry wrapped around his little finger by now,” Jim says, tapping his fingers on the arm rest, thinking. “What do you mean ‘sounded like’?”

Irene adopts her most innocent expression. “It was a bit hard to understand her, what with the gag in and everything.”

“I imagine,” Jim says dryly. “But that’s something I could’ve figured out on my own. It’s hardly helpful. What about the other project I had for you. Any luck?”

“Oh, you mean this?” Irene asks, taking the shrunken book from her pocket. Sebastian watches her carefully as she takes out her wand, touching the tip of it to the cover of the book and bringing it back to its usual size. She holds it up for Jim to see, and his eyes seem to lose any light they’d once held.

“Now where did you manage to get that?” he asks, sitting up a little straighter, obviously delighted. Sebastian’s mouth is a thin line. There’s a conflict, Irene thinks, but then, if her significant other had the sudden urge to read up on horcruxes, she’d be wary too.

She shrugs. “I know someone who works in the Ministry’s Restricted Access Archive. Well,” she says, thinking for a minute. “I know what he likes. Once I knew what to ask for it wasn’t hard to get at all.”

“You, my dear,” Jim says, already reaching for his wand. “Are a marvel.”

“Yes,” Irene agrees, smiling thinly, keeping her eyes locked on Jim’s hands. “But you need to meet your end of the deal as well, or you won’t get anywhere near this.”

Jim tilts his head to the side, jaw tensing, and for a second Irene wonders if it was the wrong thing to say. But then Jim shrugs. She relaxes.

“You have your protection,” he says. “There’s a place set up for you in France after graduation. No one will touch you there.”

“No one?” she asks.

Jim grins. “Not unless you want them to. Sebastian, if you’d be so kind,” he says, and Irene wonders what he means until she sees Sebastian move his wand in one quick motion. The book flies out of Irene’s hands before she can stop it, and Sebastian catches it easily. He grins handsomely at her, and she lets out a hiss of frustration.

“I was going to give it to you,” she sneers. “I was just waiting for my proof.”

“Patience,” Jim admonishes, putting his wand to his temple. He draws out the memory, silvery and glistening, and holds his hand out to Sebastian. Sebastian flick his wand at an empty mug on the coffee table and it transfigures, turning into a metal flask. He hands it to Jim who puts the memory into it and sends it floating over to Irene.

Even through her frustration she can admire that kind of synchronicity.

“There,” Jim says, standing as well and tucking his wand back into his pocket. “All settled. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Irene says with a smirk. She looks between the two of them and stands, feeling lighter, but mostly just glad to be rid of the book. Its presence had been weighing her down for a week. Though she wasn’t exactly a stranger to dark magic, there was something inherently repulsive about the way it seemed to drip with bad magic.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed. I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing before I so rudely interrupted.”

“How gracious of you,” she hears Sebastian murmur as she turns her back to head up to her dormitory. Jim cackles, something heavy drops to the floor, and one of them whispers. When she looks over her shoulder, Sebastian’s patronus is lounging by the fallen book, its proud head moving as it scans the room for danger.

It catches sight of her and roars.

 


	21. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can't pass up on Moran/Moriarty: ghost/living person AU. *steeples fingers Mr. Burns-style*
> 
> CW: grief, angst

Seb turns over in bed. He can’t quite muster the necessary surprise at the grinning face he’s met with.

He’s seen it around the flat a lot lately.

“I’m definitely going mad, aren’t I?” He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that when he opens them the face will be gone. It’s too fucking early for this and he hasn’t been getting enough sleep as it is. A little peace, just this once, would be so nice.

He opens eyes, then sighs. If anything Jim’s grin has only gotten wider.

“Wrong tense, darling,” Jim says. He scoots closer and wraps his arm around Seb’s waist, the way he used to when he was alive. The only difference is the temperature. Jim used to be a bloody furnace. Now his touch is like being dipped in ice water. “You’ve  _ gone _ mad. Didn’t they teach you anything in those fancy schools?”

“They taught us a lot actually,” Seb says. He buries his face in Jim’s chest, pretending that he can still smell him even though Jim doesn’t have a scent anymore, and the sheets have been washed since… Since. “Basic biology. Putting a gun in your mouth and pulling the trigger kills people, you know.”

Jim makes a thoughtful sound. He runs his hand through Sebastian’s hair and Sebastian shivers. “Never would have guessed.”


	22. Facade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt: eyes
> 
> CW: lady!mormor, makeup as a form of torture. I didn’t change their names because I didn't want to

“Is this really necessary?” Sebastian grumbles, wincing when Jim’s hand comes towards her face again. “Can’t I just do what I normally do? Go in, get what we need, kill the guy, and leave?”

“Not this time. You’ll be in public, and you need to look like every other living blow up doll in the room. Now stop moving,” Jim snaps.

She’s sitting on the floor across from Sebastian, legs tucked under her, tongue poking between her teeth in concentration. As she speaks, she flicks her wrist and Sebastian can see the thin black line wing out at the corner of her eye in the small hand mirror on the floor. Jim moves away, studying for a moment before bringing it back up. Sebastian flinches again and Jim slaps her. 

“Ow! The fuck-”

“I did tell you to stop moving." 

Sebastian huffs, doing her best to stare just beyond Jim’s shoulder and not think about the last time Jim had something this close to her eye. 

After a moment, Jim pulls back and looks at her, giving a curt nod. "There.”

Sebastian blinks. “Done?” she asks, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice.

Jim’s hand comes up, soothing over the place she’d slapped. She tilts her head. The barest hint of a smile is on her lips, and Sebastian can’t help but lean into her palm.

“You have blonde eyelashes,” Jim says. She grips Sebastian’s jaw, brandishing the mascara like a weapon. “Of course we’re not done.”


	23. University

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College au
> 
> CW: Jim is a little shit, suggestive language

“Right, so then the x would cross over to the second power and-” Sebastian stops for the third time in the fifteen minutes they’ve been studying. He looks up from his textbook. “Is that your foot?”

Jim’s expression is far too innocent to be genuine. “Hm?” He blinks and presses against Sebastian’s crotch. “No. We were talking about x, weren’t we?”

“We’re in the library,” Sebastian says, tense. Jim’s boot is just an inch away from his cock and if he shifts, Sebastian doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it. 

Though it wouldn’t be the first time he’s dragged Jim out of the library.

“I wanted to study in the dorm and you disagreed with me,” Jim says. His smile is sweet but there’s a bite to it that’s one part terrible and two parts unbearably attractive. Sebastian bites back a whimper and Jim’s smile widens, turns a little nastier. “I’m just making do.”

His foot slides over the extra inch and the heel of his boot presses. 

Sebastian slams his book closed. He stands, strides over to Jim and hauls him out of his chair. Jim laughs all the way back to the dorm.

 


	24. Starving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: starving artist au

Sebastian kicks a stray pencil out of the way and flops down on the couch. 

“I don’t see why you even need me to do this,” he says. “You’ve already seen me naked enough. I know you’ve got all the good bits memorized.”

Jim looks up from his sketchpad and raises an eyebrow. “And what are the ‘good bits’ in your opinion?”

Sebastian gives his best cocky rich boy smirk, the one he knows Jim secretly likes the best and spreads his legs a little wider. “Guess.”

Jim rolls his eyes and hunches down again. His hand and pencil fly across the pad and he barely glances up as he works. “I’m not falling for that.”

“You sure?” Sebastian asks. The wind outside howls and he suppresses a shiver. They haven’t had money to pay their heat this month so they’ve been keeping it as low as they can without freezing to death. Unfortunately, the December wind doesn’t seem to want to spare them. 

The fact that Sebastian’s stark naked doesn’t really help his situation either. 

“Yes,” Jim says, concentrating. “Now shush. Drawing to do. Pictures to sell.”

Sebastian considers making a zipping motion across his lips, but thinks better of it. Jim always gets snippy when he’s cold and though the resulting tantrum could end in some shared body heat, he’d rather not risk another week long sulk. 

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian says. He smirks and holds back another shiver.

 


End file.
